


Running To A Standstill

by EllieCarina



Series: Shatter Me [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Reylo - Freeform, force-connection, sexual tension jellyfish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCarina/pseuds/EllieCarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey dreams of Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren chases Rey. Eventually, she lets herself be caught. // Post TFA // Canon-compliant so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running To A Standstill

**Author's Note:**

> I am so on board with Reylo, like you have no idea. And while I am happy about comments, I really do not care to hear the old incest song. I shipped Jalex, I ship Blainchelcest, I really don't care. None of this is real, it's all fiction. If you can't handle the possible cousin-loving just move on. Aye? Aye. 
> 
> ..as for the rest of you..welcome! Glad you dropped by. Let's watch these idiots fall in love, shall we?

 Part of the "Shatter Me" Series.     

***

In her dreams, she is running down endless metallic and grey, sterile corridors. He is always right behind her and worse, he is inside her head.

In his dreams, he is constantly chasing her, trying to reach her, trying to keep his grip on the sharp edges of her brain. He knows that this is their connection, forged by the Force. He knows that it is really her.

She thinks him a phantasm, a product of her imagination. He can feel how she chastises herself for seeing him, not knowing that there is really nothing she can do, since he himself is deliberately pushing himself onto her consciousness. He is trying to tempt her. With darkness and greater power but that does not touch her. In due time he finds that she is appalled by even the hint of his shadows. But she does respond to _one_ thing.

When she feels his weakness, his desire for her, that’s when she is susceptible. It is blind and ridiculously soft of him but he wants her with a childish insistence that may very well be his downfall. But while he is trying to smother that desire in order to retain control over himself, that very desire is the key to her undoing. Every time he manages to make her feel what he feels for her, her own resolve to shut him out falters.

Her harsh edges fizzle whenever he thinks of kissing her, of holding her, he can feel her grow uneasy and hot when he allows his mind to wander into hers, into those very particular shadows. It’s the only part of her own mind not drenched in light. The things she lets him do to her in the dark of her supposed imagination.

The first time she lets him in willingly, it’s months and months after their last meeting in the wintery woods of Star Killer Base. She still does not know that he isn’t merely a mix of repressed desires and heated memories and so, assuming to be alone with her innermost and secret demons, she invites him in. She lets herself be caught. The corridor ends in a sharp turn and a hopeless dead end.

He can feel his face contort into a question mark as he finally, finally, catches up with her. He feels the resilience in her head waver upon coming face to face with him. The Force surges between them, like a swarm of bees rattled by an earthquake. Their connection has burst to a brighter life because she, unwittingly, allowed it to fester into solidness, through space and time. Now, though lightyears apart, they are together, on one plane of existence. He could touch her now and she would feel it.

Why now? He asks himself and she hears him. In response she gives a slight, resigned shake of her head and sighs, defeated: “I’m tired of running.”

“I did not mean to outrun you,” he says, somewhat disappointed, “I wanted you to _see_.”

“Well, I don’t,” she answers, her remaining dissatisfaction with the whole affair an angry glimmer in her eyes, “but I’m running in circles, trying to get away from you and all it does is make me feel more insane. I need to get you out of my system.”

Kylo takes a step towards her, breathing shallow with his gaze firmly on her lips, taking in her words. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Fall into me and then pretend it never happened. But tell me one thing; Do you know that it won’t just get worse and worse after? How do you know you’ll ever be the same, once you’ve given yourself to me?”

“I am not _giving_ myself to anyone,” she snickers but it does not bother him, “and you probably think a bit too highly of yourself.”

“You know I don’t,” he whispers and there is sadness in the admission, beside the innuendo. He knows that he is powerful but the truth is, he has never, not honestly, thought very highly of himself at all. Maybe that had made all the difference in their lives.

The pity she feels for him is what drives her into his arms after all. There is shame in her defeat. It stings that the only way he can overpower her is by revealing his own weaknesses and opening himself up to ridicule and failure. It feels wrong and goes against all he wants himself to be but he is not beneath it. His vulnerability always made her give a little way and now it has broken that last bit of defiance. He can just take what he wants, just like he said. But the real triumph lies with her _giving_ it to him.

 _This is important_ , he thinks, before thoughts are lost to her lips, it is important that she has leaned in first.

Her lips are soft but still demanding, pressing hard against his own in a desperate and relentless kiss. It’s abandon and neglect of things he knows she holds dear. She is betraying everything she thought she was. Although, in her defence, she still is unaware of how real it is. He can not help but growl, feeling feral, like an animal that has conquered its prey at last.

Yet, he is momentarily caught up himself. The universe could tumble around him at this very second and he would not have a mind to notice. The feeble and, if he were to admit it, ever so brittle self control he has, is tested and is truly just hanging by a threat. He could lose himself in this embrace, could imagine a life where he was nothing but a body holding hers, orbiting her, like a painfully ordinary moon. He thinks he could be content just hovering somewhere around her until the end of his days.

Rey, meanwhile, thinks she is guilty of the greatest indulgence of wrongful thoughts. But she has been running and hiding from this, from letting her mind explore that insane desire she has felt for him since she first pushed her way into his head - it feels so good to just give in to it. What is the worst that can happen anyway? She will feel guilty in the morning, there can be no doubt about that. She will feel ashamed and weak and possibly dirty. But it won’t be as bad as feeling his taunting presence, conjured up by her own twisted mind, constantly chasing her. She can not stand the dreams anymore, the tucking and the running and him always three steps ahead of her, whispering in her ear, when all she wants is to get away. _And not get away_.

Now, she has him. This idea, this memory of him, wrapped inside her arms as she puts all she has into this kiss she gives him. It’s almost like an act of war. She gives him all she has but she is determined to take just as much from him. Even if it’s not really him.

She wraps her arms around his neck, fingers snaking into his thick black hair and she scratches his scalp. The idea of him winces. It is not quite pain. It’s more of a groan, deep seated and it’s coaxing something wild and fiery from deep inside her to the surface. She can _feel_ him. As if he was real and not just a fragment of her imagination. She feels his arms encircle her waist, feels his body pressed flush against hers, his groin driving into hers. She has not been with many men but she knows what she is feeling with his hips wedged between her legs. He is hard, solid and hungry. He wants her and his breath is hot and wet against her neck and cheek.

Kylo is panting. He can feel the light around her edges and he can feel it creeping up inside of him too. She is like a beacon, like an explosion, every time she sighs and gasps from his touches. She seems to burst under his touch but he is the one catching fire. This is dangerous. More dangerous than anything he has ever encountered. He thinks of his father, the way he had pushed through the light in order to do what was necessary and end him. He is proud of how he had conquered the light then, of how he proved his allegiance to the Darkness. But with Rey, the light could be overpowering. It is just too much, too bright.

He wants to give in, to be the light she emits and to burst into flames and become one with it, but he does not forget his training. He must not. She rolls her hips against his and he is so close to that sweet spot, to her welcoming heat, he nearly cries but it is all too much. It’s too powerful.

With all the strength he can muster, and his treacherous heart pulled into a million different directions, he plucks himself off of her, severing the connection and putting a few inches of space between them.

She is panting. She is so beautiful in her lust and her hunger and it tears him apart but to go on would _shatter_ him. He does not know how to get out of this and remain what he must be. A force of darkness. A villain.

So he does the first thing that comes to mind. He leans in close, viciously, careful not to catch her scent, careful not to lose himself in her again. And then he whispers.

“This is _not_ a dream,” his voice is little more than a growl, “You are not imagining me. We are linked by the force, Rey. This is real. You did this. You _want_ this. And now I know.”

And then he shuts her out and Rey is rattled from sleep in a terror old as life itself. _It is all real._


End file.
